Friend Roulette
by Panda Gravy
Summary: I think a lot more than people think I do. I think about… how I really like my best friend. And by "like" I mean… really like. And by "best friend" I mean… all of them. Carlos/…


**Friend Roulette**

_I think a lot more than people think I do. And not just about grilled cheese sandwiches and how to do a dive off the Palmwoods roof into the pool without breaking anything serious. I think about… how I really like my best friend. And by "like" I mean… really like. And by "best friend" I mean… all of them. Carlos/…_

**an: Trying something new… aka, Carlos. Sort of… I don't know. Experimental. Different style, different approach… I still don't own Big Time Rush, surprising no one. Read on and enjoy! Also, I'd like to add that I do really like reviews, if you're so inclined to submit one…**

…

There's an alarm clock sitting next to James' bed in our room. It's not a digital one with flashing red numbers like the one in Kendall and Logan's room; James says that when he wakes up he likes to have a pleasing image, not a glaring red light. It puts him in a sour mood, he says. Not to mention that it apparently hinders his beauty sleep? I don't know, something about having too bright of lights and it keeps him awake or something… James can be weird. I personally think he just wants to be different. And that's fine. That's James.

Well, it really works in my favor that he's got this kind of clock. My plan wouldn't have worked as well with a digital clock.

I need to tell you something before I tell you what the plan was, though! Or else it won't make sense. You'll just be, like, "Uh, okay, Carlos. Why did you even do that?" No, trust me, it makes sense!

See, James likes to take a long time in the shower. Which was probably totally fine back at his huge, fancy house in Minnesota where James had a different bathroom for every day of the week. But in 2J, there's only the _one_. Between six people. And when we all need the bathroom in the morning? It gets kinda hectic. And it started really pissing everyone off when James would spend a whole hour in there. Because, seriously, I _need_ to shower in the mornings! Everyone says so.

Okay, so. Listen to this. That clock of James'? A few weeks ago, I started setting it forward by a minute each day. Really sneaky. Just sometime during the day while he was out of the room, I just wound it forward a little bit. Yeah, so what if the first couple times I did it I accidentally wound it back because I got kinda confused about how this all would work? I fixed it pretty quick. So every day after I started that, James started getting up a little earlier… He still hasn't noticed that he's waking up almost thirty minutes earlier than everyone else.

Isn't that genius? So now, James is getting in the shower and hitting up his bathroom routine early enough that it's not so big a deal anymore. I'm going to keep setting it forward for a few more days, to get it just right, but so far? This is turning out really well.

People don't give me much credit. Like with that plan. Kendall and Logan were really impressed and surprised when I told them what I was doing. People just don't expect me to have clever ideas most of the time.

Or expect me to be deep…

They underestimate me.

I think a lot more than people think I do.

And not just about grilled cheese sandwiches and how to do a dive off the Palmwoods roof into the pool without breaking anything serious.

I think about… how I really like my best friend.

And by "like" I mean… _really_ like.

And by "best friend" I mean… all of them.

Kendall, Logan, and James have been right next to me for as long as I can remember. And I can't see my life without them. Some mean adults seem to think we're going to have to break up one day and to that I say—well, I don't know how to say it, but the sound it makes when you raspberry with your tongue. Even if the band doesn't make it forever—which, I don't see why not—I'm never going to have to say goodbye to my buds. They'd never leave me.

I love them. James' stubbornness, Kendall's confidence, Logan's brains. Logan's nerdy style, James' ego, the way Kendall skates. How Kendall will never not protect the people he loves, the way Logan bites his bottom lip when he's thinking or he's nervous. James' eyelashes looking so long and thick they hide his eyes when he looks down. How does anyone not fall in love with that?

It would be a big, nasty, bull dog faced lie to say that I'm not a little in love with all my other friends, too. The Jennifers, Jo, Camille… all of them are just such cool girls. And pretty. How could I _not_ like-like them?

When I was little and I would come home from school and talk and talk and talk about my friends, Mama would laugh and say things like, "You have so much love, miho!" I never really got what she meant. I mean the love part. I know what miho means.

But I think I get it now…

James catches me one day, messing with his clock.

I thought he was having lunch in the living room, and I estimated it would take him at least ten more minutes to finish, plenty of time for me to set his clock ahead one minute. I mean, it only takes me a few seconds to do. But apparently, I was _way_ off. I've never been great with estimating. That's Logan's deal. James ditched his plate and followed me to the room without me noticing.

I'm standing next to his bed, carefully winding his clock ahead a minute when I hear him open the door and even though it's just a small, quiet sound, I jump and drop the clock with a hard clank on the floor. I scramble to snatch it up from the ground, but it bounces and rolls, making me wince thinking about how it's going to get the time off and possibly undo everything I've worked on for weeks.

Of course, James picks the clock up before I can and he's frowning at me now, his eyebrow raised all suspicious. I sort of fidget, swallowing down a lump of panic and rubbing my hands down the thighs of my jeans to get rid of the clamminess on my palms. It doesn't help. I'm caught.

I have a secret weapon for getting in trouble and I always deploy it immediately, before any grilling starts. Right away, I make my eyes big and push out my bottom lip, not even considering how that probably makes me seem pretty guilty… Hey. I said people underestimate my _depth_. I never said that I think things through all the way.

James catches on pretty fast to my guilty please-don't-be-mad look. He's seen it for most of his life, after all, and his eyebrows come down over sparking eyes. "What were you doing to my clock?" He doesn't bother looking at the face of the clock, keeping his eyes glued to me. Maybe he thinks if he looks away from me, I'll make a run for it. Pffft…

…okay, so James is smarter than people give him credit for, too.

"Nothing!" I exclaim, but it's pretty hopeless. James has intense eyes. They can cut and bore and dig without him having to even say anything. It only takes a tilt of his head to get the right angle and scrape at my core.

I like his eyes. They're pretty. Like the rare, shiny rocks that were in my driveway when I was growing up, that would glint at the right angle and I was convinced they were some sort of precious stone, so I picked them up whenever I saw them and stuck them in a shoebox under my bed.

I'm still pretty sure they've gotta have some kind of value. They're too pretty not to.

I clamp my mouth shut tight when James' eyes dig at me, trying to swallow a confession. I'm terrible at keeping secrets. So long as no one asks me directly, I can be sneaky all I want, but as soon as someone actually accuses me of doing something bad, the guilt just wells up and splurts all over the place. My mama and Mrs. Knight and Kelly and Gustavo and Mr. Bitters… all those people seem to love it about me. I hate it, though. It really sucks when I'm trying to do important things like this.

Before the truth can explode out of me, though, James looks at the clock's face, making my tummy spin with dread. He stares at it for a minute before something seems to click and he takes his cell phone from his pocket, checking the time. It's a slow, painful process for me to watch. His eyes widen and lips part and finally his gaze is on me. His shock makes me feel guiltier than the cutting glare from before. I want that back.

"Were you… adjusting my clock?" he asks, voice somewhere in the neighborhood of amazement, at the corner of surprised and confused.

I pout, sighing as I drop down onto James' bed. "I'm sorry!" I offer immediately, because I am. Not necessarily for setting his clock forward, because, well, it worked while it lasted. But I'm sorry I made James mad at me. I hate it when James is mad at me… Which doesn't actually happen that often, but when it does, it hurts. I mean, I hate it when anyone is mad at me. But James does it different than Kendall and Logan.

James can hold a grudge. And he does the whole cold shoulder thing. Because he's a diva and has trouble letting things go. And it hurts to be ignored. At least Logan just gets huffy and Kendall looks all disappointed or maybe yells a little, but neither of them is mad at me for long. James, though… I hate how when he's mad at me, he'll go to bed without even responding when I tell him good night. I just want to cry when that happens. It's like he's pretending I don't exist.

So you can understand why I really don't want James to be mad at me over this. "There was a really good reason!" I say, and there was, and James is looking at me like he expects me to tell it to him now. So I begin speaking, fast and maybe a little jumbled. "I know you hate people touching your stuff, but I came up with this plan, okay? Because you take so long in the shower, and Kendall got mad at you that one time for taking, like, half an hour and you two were yelling at each other and I really hated it, because friends aren't supposed to yell at each other, and so I was sitting around with Logan once and we were studying, or Logan was studying and I was copying answers from the back of the math book, and I got this idea, 'cause I saw something there in the back for some unit on some really complex type of addition and subtraction and time or something, I really don't know, I just saw pictures of clocks, and I thought, 'Hey! If I can get James to get up earlier, he'll take his shower before we're all even up!' and so I started setting your clock forward so it would go off sooner, and actually, I accidentally set it back first, but I figured it out soon enough to fix it and now it's almost half an hour forward and it's just almost perfect, and then you walked in on me setting it forward another minute and… now you're probably mad at me."

I sort of slump. Words are exhausting, especially when so many of them come at once.

James just looks at me, though, with his eyebrows up high. I can't tell if he's impressed with my actions or if his brain is still trying to catch up with what I just said. James can be slow sometimes. I like his thinking look, though, where he's obviously trying to process something. It's sort of cute.

Finally, his expression changes, and I'm very alert, watching to try and read his mind. He looks down at the clock and, after a moment of staring at it, reaches underneath to the little key, which he turns. I bow my head, feeling ashamed. I shouldn't have tricked James. That's really not how friends treat each other.

I hear a dull click as James sets the clock down on the nightstand next to where I'm sitting on his bed, and I look up. The clock is set one minute ahead of where it had been when I picked it up. I frown and turn to look at James just as he's sitting on the bed next to me.

He smiles and relief rolls down my back like water. "That was _really_ smart, Carlos," he commends, putting his hand on my neck in a familiar gesture.

It's impossible for me not to smile back when James looks at me like that. Anyone who doesn't return James Diamond's smile is an idiot. He's so magical-looking. Like he's out of a fairy tale. And unpredictable, no matter what anyone says. I've known him for over ten years and I still can't quite pinpoint whether he's going to explode or just smile all nice and soft.

"You're not mad, then?" I try, unusually quiet and a little cautious.

James shrugs, his hand falling away from me. "You did what you had to do, dude. Plus, it was really smart. I would have never figured that out."

I can't help myself. I start grinning and wiggle a little, shifting to turn more towards James. The way he smiles back is enough to make me want to launch myself at him in a hug right now. Which I do. I don't really believe in not doing exactly what you feel. And I felt that throwing my arms around James' neck in a hug was totally right for this situation.

James, never missing a beat, hugs back, not the least bit surprised. I mean, he _can_ read my mind and all. We have that connection more than I have with Kendall and Logan. Just the ability to understand one another.

After holding on to James for a few moments, I let go, raising my eyebrows at him. "So… you'll still say good night to me tonight?"

It takes James a second, but he realizes what I mean, and looks like he maybe even feels a little guilty remembering the last time he was mad at me, when I borrowed one of his white v-necks because all my clothes were dirty, and then I got pizza sauce on it and it never came out. He didn't talk to me for a couple days, and I think now he feels bad for it. James can hold a grudge, but he isn't heartless. He cares about my feelings and he knows I can be easily hurt… I'm not proud of that. But I'm sensitive! Can I help that I just want my friends to love me?

Well… I guess that's the whole problem, huh?

"Dude, of course I'll tell you good night," James says, completely heartfelt. And he looks at me like he can't imagine any night in his future where he doesn't tell me good night. In fact, if James could tell me good night for the rest of our lives, I'd be so, so, so happy.

Then he smirks and pinches my cheek. "I'll even give you a kiss and tuck you in," he teases.

I laugh and slap at his hand, telling him, "Shut up." But what if he did? That would be nice.

James is laughing, too. That's how I know things are cool between us. When we're both laughing and it's real. James is genuine, and real, and he doesn't keep secrets. If he's mad, he's mad, and he'll let me know. But he doesn't hide it. So when he laughs and smiles at me, I know he really means it. I just love how real James is, not like those rocks from my driveway. James actually _is_ something real and valuable.

"Let's go finish eating," James suggests, patting a hand on my shoulder as he gets up and heads out.

We don't have studio today. Gustavo's out of town for some Sanyoid CMC blah blah blah whatever meeting. And that's totally cool with me. It means I get to spend the day with my friends! I mean, yeah, I spend time with my buds at the studio, but that's _work_.

And besides… at the studio, I don't get to stare at the Jennifers.

Kendall thinks I have an unhealthy obsession with them. But I can't help it! They're so gorgeous. And besides that, I really think there's something to them other than being heartless harpies. Ever since the prom, the Jennifer with a soul sometimes gives me these sad looks across the pool, like I really did break her heart. It makes me feel really bad.

The Jennifers have had their moments, but overall, they're honestly not very nice people. Logan calls them sirens, and I don't think that makes any sense, because… well, sirens are what are on the top of police cars and ambulances, or the loud noises they tested every Monday at noon back home in case of tornadoes. How could the Jennifers be sirens? And Kendall calls them harpies, but I think they're still pretty, so that's not very fair. James just calls them a lot of nasty words, but I can tell he still wants to play Seven Minutes In Heaven with them.

There's really no reason I should love them as much as I do.

I guess it's because of those little moments I've seen the real Jennifers, the ones who aren't evil and cruel and heartless. I've seen them be actual girls, with bright smiles and laughs and shin hair and soft skin and manicured nails…

Okay, so I like their looks a lot, too. Come on! I'm only human!

I'll admit… blonde Jennifer and curly-haired Jennifer, they're actually kinda mean. But they do smile at me sometimes and give me some slack. They even kissed me at Christmas! And thinking back, it meant something the way they were there immediately for dark-haired Jennifer at prom when I broke up with her. It was a lot like how Logan, James, and Kendall would be there for me.

In any case, I think they like me better than they act like sometimes. Kendall disagrees, of course, but I see everything they do, including they way dark-haired Jennifer stares back at me across the pool every so often.

The dark-haired Jennifer, I actually really liked the way she freed herself up at the prom. I just would have liked it more if she hadn't been so scary… Kiss-talking is weird, not fun.

I'm sitting there, staring at the water and thinking about how bad I still feel for making her cry, when I hear a fake cough next to me to get my attention. I look up, squinting through my sunglasses, to see the outline of long, straight hair and a skirt like an upside down lily created by the sun. It takes a second for my eyes to really adjust and then I see that it's dark-haired Jennifer. I shoot to my feet and whip off my sunglasses with the goofy, toothy smile that I can never keep down whenever any of them are around.

At first, it doesn't even occur to me how weird it is that she's standing here alone, the other two Jennifers staring intently from across the water. It's a lot like prom, actually… When I do notice, I sort of shift on my feet.

"H—hey, Jennifer… What's up?" I ask, taking my helmet off out of politeness. And I know the Jennifers think it makes me weird.

"Hi," she says, sort of awkwardly, though she tries to cover it up with a flip of her hair. "Where's your nerdy friend?" She knows Logan's name, I know she does, but she has to act like she doesn't so that she can keep up her mean image.

I shrug, not entirely sure why she wants Logan. I feel a slight surge of protectiveness, not wanting the Jennifers to go picking on Logan for whatever. It's fine that they push me around and use me, but I don't want them doing that to my friends. Especially not Logan. He'll do a favor for anyone, particularly someone with a nice smile.

"I dunno. What do you want Logan for?" I reply, a little suspicion in my voice.

Dark-haired Jennifer shifts a little, glancing at her friends like she thinks she's all sneaky. I look, too, and can see curly-haired Jennifer throwing out her hands and shaking her head expectantly. When I look back, a hint of the weird Jennifer is peeking out in the way her eyes move, different and a little more nervous from how she is when flanked by her partners in crime.

"We—we need homework help. And he's smart," she states fast and simple, straightening her back quickly to get taller than me and she turns on her heel to walk around the corners of the pool again.

I watch the curve of her back, the way her hips make her flower-cut skirt flip back and forth, and I feel the return of the sharp, little guilt knife that keeps poking me in the ribs. I like dark-haired Jennifer. Under a layer of cattiness, she's nice and sweet. She's kinda like me.

"Jennifer, wait," I say, and I feel my bottom lip drop a little when she turns instantly, a sort of lost, confused look on her face when she looks back at me. I bet that's how I look sometimes. That's how I feel, at least, so I probably look the same way. Jennifer never has that look when she's next to her friends.

I jog to her, curious how she made it so far down the length of the pool in just a few seconds in heels. Girls have magic powers like that.

It takes me a second to remember what I was going to say. I sorta almost just blurt out "You're pretty," but then I shake my head a little and come to my senses. It would be silly for me to say that. And then Jennifer would probably say something sassy like "I know," or "You're dumb," or "Oh, Carlos, please take me now!"

Yeah, probably not that last one…

"I'm sorry," I say, holding out my helmet a little. Jennifer just sort of stares at me, like she's confused. I don't know how much clearer I can be, though. I'm sorry I hurt her feelings, I'm sorry I blew my chance with her, I'm sorry I'll never be good enough for her. Didn't that get through?

When she doesn't respond, I toss my helmet aside and take her immediately in my arms, swinging her around and dipping her low. "Be mine, darling," I say, low and huskily romantic before mouth kissing her all deep and passionate!

Just kidding. I'm still standing here, worrying my fingers on my helmet while Jennifer looks me up and down, maybe a little suspicious. Just when I think this moment is going to go on forever, me standing here rubbing my fingers on my helmet until the plastic wears into holes and Jennifer looking up and down me until she could describe every inch of my height, she finally nods. Just nods. A short, small movement of her chin so barely-there that I wonder if I imagined it. But even if I imagined the nod, I don't think I'm imagining the little way her lips curl slightly.

And then she's gone. Just like that. She didn't even say it was okay or anything, she just turns and goes right back to the other Jennifers. Almost as if I didn't say anything.

I think it helped, though. She almost smiled. Almost. Just barely. I saw it. She can deny it if she wants. In fact, she's probably complaining to the other Jennifers right now, but I don't care. My tummy still feels all light and fluttery because of it and I'm pretty sure we're cool now. Maybe more than cool. Maybe she doesn't hate me now. Maybe she even likes me again. Which would be great, 'cause I do still like her. If only the other Jennifers weren't so mean all the time and long-haired Jennifer didn't get so mean when she was around them.

The Jennifers aren't the only girls that give me flutters in my stomach. There are a lot of pretty girls at the Palmwoods. And nicer ones at that.

I stay away from Camille, though. She's scary. I don't like getting hit in the face and Camille really likes hitting people in the face, so I don't think we'd be a good mix. But sometimes, when I see the way she looks at Logan, I wish she looked at me like that. But that's the whole reason I just kinda look quietly at Camille. She's only got eyes for Logan. And maybe James, a little, but I'm a little fuzzy on that whole story.

Still, though. She's pretty. And she has, like, this fire! I'm pretty sure if I asked her to hang out and do dangerous stuff with me, like running with scissors or doing dives into the pool off a mini trampoline. All those things Logan says never to do. I bet Camille wouldn't listen to Logan. It doesn't seem like she does now. She still kisses and slaps him whenever she wants. That's that fire. That she just does whatever she wants and takes whatever she wants and it's all just so cool! Maybe I don't have a crush on Camille so much as I just want to _be_ Camille.

She does seem to get to kiss Logan a heck of a lot for not actually dating him.

That's kind of weird…

And Jo, I stay away from her, too. She's super nice and crazy pretty, but she's totally Kendall's.

Besides, she and Kendall are practically the same person anyway. And I've already got Kendall. And I like him better. No offense to Jo; like I said, she's nice and pretty and all, and she may totally be Kendall, but she's no Kendall. Does that make sense?

Since I don't want the Jennifers glancing nasty looks at me for the rest of the afternoon by the pool, I head up to 2J. I'm crossing my fingers that someone's in the apartment. I don't like being alone. I get all itchy and feel like running laps around the hotel if I sit all by myself for too long. It's crazy! I'd rather just hang out with someone else, even if it's just reading magazines with Katie or watching Logan study or eating corndogs with James. I just really prefer being around people. It's my element or whatever.

I could probably start bouncing with joy when I see that Kendall's on the couch, Xbox controller held so tight in his hands, I can see his knuckles outlined in white from the door. He sees me and his face lights up and I really like that me just walking in the apartment can do that.

"Dude! I'm so glad you're here!" he practically shouts and it just makes more so much more excited that I bound to the couch and hop into the seat next to him.

"Yeah?" Then I'm wondering why, but it only takes a glance from Kendall to the controller to the game on the coffee table with plastic wrapper discarded next to it and finally to the television screen for me to get it. "Dude, you got it!"

Kendall smirks as I snatch the case off the coffee table. "You know, I kinda hate to take advantage of being a pop star, but… sometimes it pays off to be a teen sensation. Like when we get an advance copy of NHL 12." I turn the case over in my hands, stroking the side with my fingers like it's worth the whole world. We've been waiting too long for this game, and I've been begging Kendall to try and get Gustavo to get us an advance copy. And then here it is! If any of us could get him to get it, it's Kendall. He likes Kendall best, and why shouldn't he? Kendall's incredible.

He's already got the game in the console and he tosses a controller into my lap. "I was about to text you and tell you to get up here. I need someone's butt to kick and Logan's busy with something stupid." So homework.

I make an offended noise, rearranging on the couch so I'm more comfortable, tucking my legs under me. Kendall leans forward on his knees, all focused. "You are so not kicking my butt, dude," I argue as the game starts up.

Even from a little behind him, I can see Kendall roll his eyes. "I kick everyone's butt, Carlos. Come on." He smirks over his shoulder at me. Even when he's being a jerk, I like Kendall's smirk. Because he's just that good and he knows it. Some people think that's cocky, but I really like it. It means that Kendall never thinks he's going to fail. And he hardly ever does, either. He almost always leads us into success.

And the times he doesn't, he leads us into failure with so much grace that we might as well have succeeded.

He refocuses on the screen and I find that I'm still smiling at him, even though he isn't looking at me anymore. He's going into concentrated competitive mode, his eyebrows coming down just a little and the green in his eyes getting harder, solid like tree roots. His lips are parted slightly and his mouth moves just a little as he begins reading words on the screen, setting up a game for us to play. It's a lot like the look he gets on the ice, like his brain is programming itself for battle, getting ready to own everything in his path.

My eyes move from his face to the back of his neck, following the curve of his back, bony, how the bumps of his spine show through the Wild jersey I just realized he's got on. Dork. Of course he would put on his jersey just to celebrate NHL 12. Before I even realize what I'm doing, I've got my hand between his shoulders, feeling the letters "KOIVU" underneath my fingers. I drag my hand slowly down his back, feeling the jersey material and again the slick, smooth white stuff that forms the "9" in the middle, until I get to Kendall's lower back and my hand falls off of him.

He's looking at me over his shoulder again, raising an eyebrow, and I just sort of stare back.

Today is so full of awkward silences. Which is weird. I fill silence, I don't create it. I'm loud and excitable, and I'm Carlos and I'm supposed to the energetic one, not the awkward, quiet one. I need to stop doing that.

"What's up?" Kendall asks, turning a little, like he's worried. Of course Kendall would think there's something that needs fixing. He's always trying to fix everything for everyone.

I shake my head, though, plastering on a grin. I'm really good at smiling. And besides, nothing's actually wrong. I just wanted to feel Kendall's back. He doesn't wear a t-shirt under his jerseys if he's just wearing them around the house. I could feel him a lot better through the thin jersey fabric with all its little holes and silky lines like that. He felt a little softer through that than he does through flannel or his cotton t-shirts that aren't soft and designery like James'. I just wanted to feel Kendall when he's soft.

"You had something on your back," I lie quickly, taking the opportunity to touch his back again, this time a little rougher, playful.

I'm not sure if Kendall buys it or not, because he's better at lying than I am, so he's grinning easily and sighing a laugh when he goes back to staring at the screen.

And, yeah. He does kick my butt. Kendall kicks everyone's butt.

But it's not exactly fair. It's a brand new game I've never played before and I feel like Kendall played a couple open rounds before I came into the apartment. 'Cause he's a big, tall, skinny, stupid liar-cheater. With a cute, goofy smile and the silliest victory dance that I really like watching him parade around the living room. He, like, does this kick-shuffle thing that looks so ridiculous that I wonder how he's even a pop star. You wouldn't think the dude can dance or move his hips or anything the way he's acting after every goal. He'd totally get penalized for this kind of behavior on the ice, and he knows it, but see if Kendall Knight's ever cared about penalties for anything.

He's busting with bravado by the time night rolls around and Logan and James get around to joining us. After only a few minutes, we're all crowded together on the couch, elbowing one another and trying to cover each other's eyes, yelling and shouting and fighting. At least Kendall's stopped kicking my butt in favor of targeting James. He and I are on a team now, against James and Logan, and Logan keeps checking me, the jerk. But Kendall's got my back. He's always got my back.

Eventually, Mrs. Knight announces bedtime. I'm pretty sure we've been driving her crazy for the last couple hours, screaming commands and insults at one another, but she's probably used to it. This has been going on for, like, ten years. And what I like best is that as we all head off to bed, despite all the fighting and yelling and boasting, we still smile at each other and give congratulatory pats on the back and tell each other good night. It all makes me feel something I can't describe other than calling it… love. I guess.

Still. When I'm huddled under my covers and trying to rearrange the sheets around me so I'm comfortable, I feel off. I can't figure out what it is, but suddenly something just feels wrong. I can't sleep. It's out of nowhere and it's making me crazy. I wish James was awake. He's so good to talk to sometimes. But he's laying there all still and I know he's sacked. And I'd feel so bad to wake him up.

I'm as quiet as I can be when I sneak out of my bed, out into the dark hallway just lit up real softly by a nightlight, and let myself into Kendall and Logan's room. I can tell right away Kendall's asleep, hearing his barely-there snoring. It was so much worse when we were kids. I'm glad it's gotten better, if just for Logan's sake.

Logan who I know is still awake because he sits up a little when I open the door. He's so hyperaware, always soaking in facts and details, that he can't even ignore the little sigh of the door hinge. But as soon as he sees it's just me, he flops back down, turning to face the wall. I think about how that's typical Logan, pretending that brushing me off will make me go back to my room, even though he knows me well enough to know that isn't even close to true.

I shuffle to the side of his bed, leaning over him a little. I don't even get to take a breath to whine his name before he cuts me off. "Go to bed, Carlos," he orders, his voice still firm even in a whisper. Logan tries so hard to be mean sometimes.

But I just roll my eyes. "Logaaan." I still had to whine his name at him. "I can't sleep." I hear the sincerity and touch of sadness in my own voice. I honestly don't know what it is. I just feel a little incomplete, slightly empty tonight; just enough that it'll keep me up forever until whatever's empty in me is filled.

Logan knows the drill, even if he pretends like he hates it. He looks at me over his shoulder, like he's considering me, although I already know he'll cave. Logan always caves. Like I said, he likes to pretend he's mean and a big bully, but he's got a good heart, and he can never say no to his friends. And I'm pretty sure I've got Logan's number more than anyone. I know how to tug on his heartstrings just so they make the right sounds. He shifts closer to the wall and pulls back the covers. I bounce a little before crawling onto his bed and shimmying down under the blankets with Logan.

This started when we moved to LA. I'd never been away from my family before, never not known that my parents were just in the next room if I needed them. It was scary, being away from home. I've always felt protected at home. If anything happened, my mama and papi were right there to protect me and make everything alright. But if anything happened in LA, they were millions of miles away and the protectors of my whole life might as well have been on another planet. I know Logan and James felt the same way at first. In fact, the first night in 2J, we all ended up huddled together on the floor of Kendall and Logan's room, unable to sleep for hours before we sort of just fell into it somewhere between laughing and talking.

Logan and James got over it pretty quick, though, Logan being mature beyond his age and James being so wrapped up in making music. But every once and awhile, I just can't sleep, and I end up in Logan's bed, just like now, touching my nose to the back of his neck, holding my hands warmly between his back and my chest. Every time, almost immediately when I'm under the sheets and can feel the heat off Logan's back and hear his breathing, it's an instant fix and I feel more relaxed right away. More full, more whole.

Logan tries to be mean, but all he actually is is warmth and comfort and home. He puts up the front to protect himself, but he doesn't have to do it around me. Through the light t-shirt over his back, I can feel his tension releasing, stress going away as he shifts back a little against my hands, almost like a question. I whisper, "Hey, Logan," inviting him to turn over and face me. He does so almost on top of my words, his eyes half-open right across from mine.

"Yeah," he responds, all that bossiness from earlier gone from his voice and now it's just soft and gentle, the kind of Logan voice that doesn't get used that often. I've heard him use that voice a lot with Camille, and every so often with James and Kendall, and a couple times with Katie, but usually? It's for me. It's understanding and caring and all the things Logan wraps me up with on nights when I can't sleep. That tone of his voice makes my chest warm from the cores of my ribs, heating up my sternum to the point where I think I can actually feel the temperature change under my hands, still held close to my chest. Logan doesn't even realize all the things he can shove into one word.

I want to keep looking at him, seeing the way he softens and stops trying to be such a hardass once he's alone with me, but I always get just so comfortable when I'm in Logan's bed that I've got to let my eyes close. "I'm glad you're here," I tell him. I've told him before, a few times when I've been snuggled close to him like this, feeling warm and safe with his stowed-away softness. I know it seems weird that I go to Logan and not Kendall or James, who are definitely bigger than Logan and totally tougher. But Logan is safe in a different way. Maybe it's because he keeps his caring such a secret, it's that he puts up little forts of sarcasm and snark, and then gently pulls aside the blanket-door when I come around to crawl inside with him.

I can hear him smile in the way he breathes a short laugh, and then he lays one of his hands over mine, held instinctively next to my chest, under my chin. He doesn't actually say anything, at least I'm pretty sure he doesn't. I could just fall asleep before I can hear him reply, but I'm pretty sure he just doesn't say anything. That would be like Logan. To let my statement hang in the air like it's just another silly Carlos thing to say. But I know he appreciates it. And I know he's glad I'm here, too, not just in general. I know he feels just as loved as I do on the nights when I crawl in bed with him.

When he doesn't respond, it's just Logan, soft and caring and like a blanket, whether on a bed or in the constructs of a fort.

I'm pretty sure that someday all these feelings are going to tear me up. I probably play too many games, fool myself too much with stuff like this, hold on to my feelings and let them go over my head until I can't breathe and then stay like that for as long as I can. But what else can I do? I've always been a risk seeker.

I've heard of a really, really scary and dangerous game some psycho people play where they put just one bullet in a revolver and spin the barrel and then point the gun at their brains and pull the trigger. And they're taking the chance they might destroy themselves. That's crazy! I would never do something _that_ stupid and crazy.

Except… I guess I kind of am doing that already, aren't I?


End file.
